Birthday Eve

Let's let the photos do the talking this time.


At Tokyo Tokyo in Shangri-La. That's Ron in the background.



Hono'o-chan, making kitchen magic.



Vegetables and roast chicken, recipe adapted from the Barefoot Contessa.



Close up shot of the veggies, with olive oil and herbs.



Chicken! Three words: nom nom nom.

I've Sunk To A New Low

If you see a tall, jumpy guy in Greenhills at about, say, 3pm or 4pm tomorrow, handing out flyers and talking to Muslim store-owners if they can speak Arabic and if they would like to pursue an exciting career in the call center industry, it's probably either me or my officemate, J.

Feel free to say hi or offer a hug, and maybe an assurance that there is a bright future ahead of me. I won't believe you, but a friendly face and a warm hug will always make me feel better. Throw in a donut if you're feeling especially sympathetic.

You Don't Bring Me Anything But Down

And because things have been moving towards another transition, with changes in our daily routine occurring irregularly, I ended up having lunch with you. Normally it would have been fine. I would not have minded. I would not even have thought of it at all. Today, however, was different.

You were talking as you'd always done, and I was listening, although I hadn't noticed this time I was doing so more intently than I should have. I suppose you can say it was the first time I'd ever heard you actually speak. How lonely you sounded beneath the hollow shell of fantasies you'd built around your soft core. What's even sadder, was that I think you couldn't even hear your inner self talking anymore. I was looking at you, words floating out from your mouth and evaporating into the atmosphere mere centimeters from your skin. Everything -- every lie -- was thin and shapeless and empty.

On one hand I wanted to shout at you, try to break through that phantasm blanketing your person. I wanted to claw at you right then and there, hurt you, stab you with the fork in my left hand. "Can you hear yourself talking?!" But I think even if I shouted at the top of my lungs, you wouldn't -- couldn't -- hear me anyway. The walls you'd built were too thick; your life, too numbingly pristine. I stabbed at the lone slice of pork on my plate instead.

On the other hand, I thought of trying a different approach. I would look at you straight in the eye, and tell you in a voice not unlike the low rustle of trees at midnight how, the contrast apparent from your secure and sheltered lifestyle, I live everyday in constant fear of losing my job. How each minute, I force-feed into my mind the thought that I have to, have to, have to survive without having to rely on anyone for anything. How terribly unjust and uncompromising circumstances can be at the most inconvenient of times, and how I only put up with it just because. I wanted you to hear me, hoping it would be a catalyst for your long-overdue introspection.

I did neither. Instead, I let out a long, heavy exhale. I pushed my plate aside, nodded at some long-drawn opinion you had about something or other, bit my lip, and swallowed hard. I felt a solid, metallic clunk at the pit of my stomach. I'm not having lunch here tomorrow.

The Day The World Made Sense

Despite the fact that I had to wake up at 6 in the morning to get to the office early to pick up the check for my cash loan, the day turned out pretty well. Thank the gods for Vacation Leaves. It's a good thing I expected the worst regarding renewing my NBI Clearance. There was a long queue when I got to Park Square Makati at around 11, but it wasn't so bad. Gave me time to finish reading a couple of stories from Haruki Murakami's Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman -- a book that's taken longer than usual for me to finish reading. After the people over at the renewal booth confirmed my squeaky clean record once again, I sauntered over to the bank where I was supposed to have my check encashed -- a couple of blocks from Greenbelt -- and waited about 40 minutes (or another Blind Willow story) to get everything done.

By 1, I was practically free. I was thinking whether I should still report for work, even if it would only count as half a day, or if I should go to the Makati house for a visit instead. I walked around the park along Gamboa, and maybe it was the way the afternoon sun streamed through the trees and the nostalgia it washed me with, but it didn't take long for me to make a decision. I called up my boss and asked her if I could take the rest of the day off.

I stayed at the Makati house for the rest of the afternoon, helping Josh with his homework and teaching him how to write his g's and e's properly. Napped for about an hour until 5, which was when my mother got home. We talked for a bit, then had an early dinner. Left at around 6 with promises of going back on Saturday, then decided to walk around Greenbelt again and browse around Powerbooks first before heading to the Boni house.

Right now I'm resting and doing my dailies online. I have never felt this good in such a long time. I hope the Universe realizes I'm not asking for much. Just more days like this, please, and I will be very grateful.

Long, Slow Slide

Outside your window the circus crackles
and lurches with rings of smoke.
You laugh halfheartedly at the punchline
not realizing they've made you the joke.
Inside my heart a war is raging
in regions still untamed.
The worst fear I can imagine
is for the mystery to be named.

A Long Slow Slide, Jewel

Sunday afternoon, cats are all sleeping, and the Bunniez are out. I'm in the middle of a long weekend, and no plans have been shaping up as of yet. First two weeks of semi-independence have taken off smoothly, work still keeps people viciously high-strung, but the routinary activity can be somewhat comforting.

In a couple of weeks, I will be in my early late twenties. Probably the most useful philosophy I have learned thus far is to just let everything slide into place, and not resist so much. I think I have said "that's fine with me" often enough these past few years that where I am now has become a sum of benign apathy and pacifism.

I am not particularly sad, nor am I happy; I've found that both emotions have become quite tedious -- sometimes even terribly cumbersome -- that it's better just to settle for a snug, quiet place in the emotional middle.

Anyway, I might be sleeping in a bit. Maybe finish this book I've been reading for a couple of weeks now. Tonight, I might go out for dinner. It's a long, slow slide down, but that's fine with me.